


[fic] Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

by silly_cleo



Category: Steerswoman Series - Rosemary Kirstein
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 17:29:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13839576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silly_cleo/pseuds/silly_cleo
Summary: Five times Rowan admires Bel, and the time Bel notices.





	[fic] Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lorata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorata/gifts).



Bel’s whole stance shifts when she’s performing, thinks Rowan, resting her chin in her hand and sighing. Her posture is perfect, back straight, nothing like the loose, light crouch she’s seen her adopt in battle. Tall and upright, like a tree, but not in the least bit stiff, feet firmly planted wide wherever she stands, whether in the earth, on a chair, a table, a podium. Every gesture is perfectly calculated to enhance whatever effect she’s trying to evoke. Rowan doesn’t know how she does it, but she knows any number of performers who trained at the best academies the Inner Lands have to offer who wish they were half the storyteller her friend is. 

The number of poems she knows is astonishing too, as is her ability to turn their own adventures into new stories. Rowan honestly can’t decide whether she prefers hearing old Outskirter tales (particularly if what she’s starting to suspect about their origin is true) or Bel’s own work. Bel shoots her a covert “are you even paying attention?” look. Rowan starts, grins shamefacedly, and refocuses her attention back on Bel’s tale. Lucky for her, neither seems to be in short supply.

*

There’s a hole in Bel’s trouser leg. It keeps catching Rowan’s eye, her gaze drawn to it like a compass to true north. Her fingers, entirely of their own volition, seem to want to trace its outline, then from there maybe move on to the shape of Bel’s thigh--wait, no. She shifts slightly in her chair, resisting the impulse to shake herself like a dog, as if thoughts could be dislodged from her brain as easily as water from a dog’s coat. Bel, sitting across from her, shoots her a look she can’t even begin to interpret. 

Rowan turns her attention back to her own work. They’re sitting and working together, as they often do of an evening. Rowan is (supposedly; when she can keep her mind on the task in front of her) polishing up a map of the Outskirts, while Bel is making some new arrows for her bow. The sweeping lines and symbols, however, just don’t hold her attention as they usually would. Before long, she finds her gaze wandering back Bel, this time to her hands at their work. Her fingers effortlessly manipulate the shafts and feathers, the arrowhead and the knife, making the task into a sort of dance. She catches herself again. Really, this will never do. She wrenches her attention back to her map, pushing all other distractions determinedly to the side.

*

Rowan deeply appreciates any situation that allows for her to watch Bel fight. Under most circumstances, if Bel is fighting, Rowan is either also fighting, or at least distracted by whatever led to them both being involved in a fight in the first place. This time, however, she’s free to devote all her attention to Bel. 

They had not quite reached the Outskirts, but close to them, not far from where they first met, when they’d bumped into a troupe of Outskirters. Bel didn’t know any of them personally, though they’d all heard of her, of course. And, of course, none of them could resist the chance to test their mettle against Bel, the mighty leader uniting the Outskirts against the wizards. 

Bel’s crouched light and low on the balls of her feet, sword held loosely in hand, circling her opponent, a brawny, shaggy man at least twice her size. Her attention is somehow simultaneously hyper-focused and thrown wide, all senses alert both to the man before her and her surroundings. Rowan wishes she could learn how to do that. For an instant, Bel catches her eye, flashes her a wild grin, and her mouth forms a silent “ha!” that has nothing to do with what’s happening in the ring, as far as Rowan can see. She grins back at Bel, settling in to enjoy the sight of a friend excelling at something she loves.

*

Bel’s joy in new experiences and the enthusiasm with which she throws herself into learning new things is one of the things Rowan loves best about her, she thinks to herself as she watches Bel scampering about the rigging as nimbly as any ship’s boy. She finds her sea legs fast these days, and there she is up in the crow’s nest, now learning to tie new knots, next listening intently as Rowan and the captain discuss charting their course. Her concentration is absolute, her desire to succeed obvious. 

Rowan notices, with a start, that Bel’s attention seems to have shifted to her, which in turn draws her attention to the fact that she’s staring again. Willing herself not to start blushing, she turns her attention back to the captain.

*

Rowan is pretty sure there aren’t a lot of circumstances where watching someone sleep isn’t categorized as creepy behavior and a cause for concern, but if there is one, surely when you’re quite literally standing watch over said person while they sleep has to be it. Creepy or not, Rowan has to admit, in the privacy of her own head if hopefully nowhere else, she does like watching Bel sleep when the opportunity arises. It’s the contrast that arrests Rowan’s attention. The…absence of presence when Bel’s personality isn’t there to animate Bel’s features. It should make her look younger, but somehow doesn’t. Some lines of tension are erased; edges smoothed over, but that just emphasizes the absence. Bel is far too young for wrinkles yet but Rowan fancies she sees the faintest shadow of a hint of crow’s feet around her eyes. Laughter lines. Good. 

Bel twitches in her sleep and Rowan jerks, guiltily reminded she should be watching their campsite, not Bel.

*

Rowan knows a little about traditional Outskirter dances, but nothing she’d heard comes close to the reality. Trust the Outskirters to weaponize dancing. There appear to be an endless number of dances, all made up of intricate and only slightly differing combinations of a fairly small number of very simple steps. One person, the Caller, calls out the pattern for each dance, but the number of Outskirters who don’t seem to need the Caller’s help at all is astonishing, to Rowan’s mind. Rowan had always assumed her friend’s memory was extraordinary, but she now wonders whether it’s a skill developed by a society with such a strong emphasis on oral traditions. She makes a note to quiz Bel on Outskirter learning methods in more detail the first chance she gets. 

For now, she devotes herself to studying the spectacle in general, and Bel herself in particular. Rowan hasn’t had the opportunity to find this out until this evening, but she absolutely loves watching Bel dance. Outskirter dancing isn’t exactly what Rowan would describe as graceful, but there is a certain exuberant energy to it all the same. At the moment the dancers seem to be lined up in eight pairs of two, and each couple is taking it in turns to charge down the aisle the lines form, looking more like a human battering ram than Rowan had ever expected of dancing. Bel, paired with another woman of similar build, is currently taking her turn being one of the charging couples.

Rowan finds herself laughing, stamping her feet and clapping her hands along with the rest of the audience, cheering the dancers along.

The dance ends in a breathless rush of applause from participants and spectators alike and Rowan loses sight of Bel in the crowd as the pattern dissolves; spectators pouring onto the dance floor to find friends, and dancers moving to find a seat, or some water. Rowan feels a pang of loss so fleeting she almost misses it, for a moment in time that can never be called back. 

As the Caller announces the next dance, Bel pops out of the crowd in front of her, expression indecipherable.

“Tell me, Lady, do Steerswomen dance?”

Rowan can’t immediately identify the emotion this utterance accompanies, a problem she will have to address at a later date.

“Um.”

Possibilities are two. Bel is randomly asking her about Steerswomen generally, possibly inspired by the occasion, or Bel is asking about Rowan, specifically. The first seems at odds with the expression on Bel’s face. The second has more implications than Rowan has time to work through in this precise moment, so she opts to take the question at face value. To buy herself some thinking time, if nothing else.

“There’s no rule either way. Any Steerswoman can dance, same as anybody else. If she chooses.”

Bel’s eyes lock onto Rowan’s. “And do you so choose, Lady?”

Rowan’s eyes widen slightly. She swallows. Nervous. That’s how she’s feeling. Definitely possibility number two then. Her thoughts seem to be taking a long time to come together. She isn’t sure whether time has actually slowed down or if she just wishes it would so she could think. As she dithers, she watches the expression on Bel’s face begin to shift to something she can decipher: disappointment.

The sight makes her chest ache, and galvanizes something in her brain. She hears herself saying. “Yes, I do.” 

Her body, apparently having given up awaiting instructions from her still catching-up brain, rises of its own volition, holding a hand out to Bel. Bel’s eyes light, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across her face like a sunrise across the plains. She grasps Rowan’s outstretched hand and tows her firmly towards a spot on the dance floor. There will be time to talk, and to analyse her feelings in more detail later, but for now, Rowan is happy to throw herself into sharing this moment with Bel.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is actually my 2017 Yuletide fic. Life happened and I didn’t get it done in time but I had enough that I wanted to finish it, so I’ve been chipping away and thought I’d post it for a little out of season Yuletide joy!
> 
> Thank you walkthegale and cosmic_llin for beta-ing and cheerleading!


End file.
